


Good Directions

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: City Boy Lance, Coran basically has the same role as the series (being awesome), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Except Keith's heart because Lance is too good, Half-Korean Keith, Hispanic Allura, Keith Has Freckles Fight Me, M/M, POV Keith (Voltron), Ranch Hand Keith, Ranch Hand Shiro, Ranch Owner Allura, Texan Keith (Voltron), Why Did I Write This?, ranch au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith wasn't much for socializing. When he and Shiro were hired as ranch hands for Altea Ranch he kind of figured it would mean a lot of work and little talking. And it definitely didn't entail interacting with a direction challenged annoyance in a blue convertible.After a few meetings, he learns that the annoyance's name is Lance. And maybe he isn't so bad.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What happens when you've got Voltron season 3 on the brain, Klance interactions, Texan Keith and the other employees at your job insist on country music over and over again? You get the worst thing ever and I hate it. Yet, here it is. And it won't leave me alone.
> 
> I thought it would be crack but it turned into.... I actually have no idea what it turned into. I wrote it anyway. Expect two more chapters. Ugh. Expect typos and spelling errors. ><

Keith threw the last of the feed bags onto the back of the truck, the pickup groaning at the weight. The old thing was pretty beat up. Allura would probably have to break down and get a new one before winter according to Coran.

 

“That’s the last of them Shiro!” He called, clapping the dirt off his gloves. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, his black hair tacky against his skin. Even with the doors open the barn air was stale and hot and he couldn’t wait for lunch to cool off inside.

 

“Thanks, Keith!” Shiro called back from the driver’s seat. “I’ll get this over to the other barn. Can you grab the mail?”

 

“Can do,” Keith said, shutting the tailgate and watching Shiro slowly drive out, tires stirring up the dirt road.

 

He grabbed the towel off the fence and wiped his face. Belatedly he wondered if maybe he should have put his hair up before heading out this morning. It might make this Texas heat a little more bearable.  

 

“Fuck is it hot…” He groaned, throwing the towel over his shoulder and shutting the wood barn doors.

 

It had been just about two weeks since he and Shiro took up ranch hand opening at Altea Ranch and still the manual labor left his limbs and head throbbing and heavy by the time he hit his bed. Shiro had laughed the first night when he collapsed into bed like a rock and just as stiff. The sunburn on his shoulders and face hadn’t been pleasant either. Since then sunscreen and a hat became a reluctant routine.

 

All things considered, it was a pretty sweet deal and Keith never minded hard work. $200 a month and free room and board as well as breakfast and dinner in exchange for keeping the ranch going? They jumped on that opportunity as soon as possible.

 

Keith’s boots crunched on the coppery dirt of the front driveway, where the dusty mailbox sat facing the main road. He hopped the fence and opened the mailbox when he heard a car coming down the road.

           

Cars rarely came down this dirt one-way road and when they did they were tractors, pickups or ATVs.

 

The rumbling smooth purr coming over the hill did not sound like any of those.

 

Keith pulled out the mail and looked down the road.

 

Coming over the hill was a shiny blue convertible, top down and covered in a healthy amount of dirt. Keith didn’t think he would see one of those out here. He winced at the thought of the dirt and rock wrecking the bottom of the poor car.

 

Keith was about to hop the fence again when the car rumbled closer and the driver shouted.

 

“Hey! Wait you!” The car pulled into a stop right in front of Keith, motor idling. “Hey... uh I assume you’re from around here,” the driver, a guy said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Uh,” was all Keith could manage.

 

The driver was a young guy, maybe Keith’s age, with dark brown skin and tufts of wind-blown cocoa colored hair. He looked at Keith over the tops of mirrored aviators. A thin brow was arched slightly and a long finger tapped the leopard print steering wheel cover impatiently. Keith could just hear the radio playing and despite being turned down he recognized “Gasolina”.

 

He had to be from the city.

 

“Hey. Yoo-hoo. Earth to Mullet-man. Are you listening?”

 

Definitely from the city.

 

“My name is not Mullet-man,” he scowled, arms folded and glaring down at the other man.

 

“If you don’t want people calling you that then get a different haircut. That hair wasn’t even cool in the 80s, dude. Also…” He leaned the driver’s side, a wry smile on his face.  “A cowboy hat? Really?”

 

“Did you pull over just to critique me?” Keith snapped. He was working on a ranch. He didn’t need some stranger critiquing the way he dressed. Shiro did that enough.

 

“No. Actually… I’m a little lost. I took the wrong exit a few miles back and ended up on the FM roads and Google hasn’t been much help. Which way is it to the interstate?”

 

Keith sighed.

 

“Keep going a ways past the caution light. You’ll see a little country store with an old coke sign. Take a left and then a right. You’ll find the interstate.”

 

“Awesome! Thanks!” He flashed a wide bright grin.

 

Keith just gave a gruff snort and turned to hop back over the fence. The engine revved up and he listened as the radio was turned up full blast before fading away.

 

* * *

           

Keith had no idea he could get freckles. Working outdoors had brought out a dozen or so little flecks on his suntanned skin despite the brim of his hat. After two months of outdoor work his skin evidently got sick of frying and just decided to tan. It wasn’t a dark tan but enough that the tan lines were stark. Maybe it came from his mom's side of the family?

 

“Keith! Breakfast!” Allura called from downstairs.

 

Keith looked away from the mirror, pulled his shirt on and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. The large three story farm house was old but kept nice and neat. He could practically smell the age of the wood, particularly in the third-floor bedroom that he and Shiro shared. Allura’s family had clearly put a lot of care into keeping the house nice. It must have been hard between her and Coran to run it.

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Coran said cheerily from the stove. “I made pancakes.”

 

“They’re not bad,” Shiro said, looking up from his own stack of pancakes drenched in syrup.

 

“Why would they be bad?” Coran asked, looking back.

 

“Let’s just say your past cooking experiments haven’t been all the successful,” Allura said sheepishly. She leaned against the counter, sipping at her coffee. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her hat sat on the table. She put in just as much work as Shiro and Keith if not more to keep this place going.

 

“You wound me, Princess,” Coran sobbed dramatically. Princess was a nickname he used often for her. She rolled her eyes but she never seemed to stop him from using it. Keith had a feeling she didn’t mind as much as she let on.

 

“Well,” she said, downing her mug. “I’m headed out to the peach trees. Pidge mentioned there was an outbreak of borers so I’m taking the ATV to check on them. You’ve got your list for the day, boys?”

 

“Got it,” Shiro confirmed, waving a piece of paper around.

 

“See you at lunch,” she said, putting her hat on and heading out the kitchen door.

 

Keith dumped four packets of sugar in his coffee. Allura must have made the coffee this morning because it usually only required three before it was drinkable. Keith liked his coffee dark and sweet. Milk just ruined it.

 

“It’s getting late,” Shiro said, eyeing the sun starting to peek over the fields. “We should get going.”

 

“Let’s roll then,” Keith said downing his coffee and trying not to make a face.

 

“What about your pancakes Keith?” Coran said, holding up a stack of fluffy pancakes with a pout under his red bushy mustache

 

He grabbed two off the plate and stuffed one in his mouth.

 

“Tastes, great Coran,” he mumbled around the pancake as he headed out the door. “See you.”

 

“You animal!” Coran called after him. “You can’t just eat my pancakes like that! You have to savor it!”

 

 

           

Keith had gotten into the swing of being a ranch hand. It was early mornings and hard work but he found the work getting easier and Allura and Coran were actually rather nice to hang around. For the longest time, it had just been him and Shiro and that worked for him. He was glad Shiro appeared to enjoy the company. Though it seemed he enjoyed Allura’s in a different way than Keith.

 

The entire morning was spent looking after the cattle, checking the calves and looking to see if any were sick or injured. Now Keith and Shiro were inspecting the fences for any breaks. The Holt’s had reported that some of Allura’s herd had ended up on their property and Hunk had to chase them away from the crops.

 

Keith was inspecting the outer perimeter along the stretch of the main road when he heard a car coming up over the music of his headphones. He didn’t pay much attention to it until he caught the flash of shiny blue paint from the corner of his eye.

           

In the afternoon light it wasn’t hard to see the chestnut brown hair and mirrored glasses. The convertible slowed as it approached Keith and stopped in front of him. The tires crunched the red gravel as the driver turned down his stereo. Daddy Yankee again. It was hard to forget this guy.

 

“Hey, man is there any chance you...” the man trailed off, looking down at his phone with a scowl. He held the thing up, probably trying to catch a signal.

 

“You’re out of luck catching a signal out here,” Keith said pulling his headphones out and leaning against a fence post with crossed arms. “Trust me.”

             

He looked up and Keith saw his eyebrows go up in surprise.

 

“Oh, it's Mullet-guy again,” the man whispered absently, looking over the tops of his glasses.

 

“It’s Keith,” he said flatly. “Not Mullet-guy or Mullet-man.” Honestly, he was surprised this guy remembered _him_.

 

“Seriously dude, the least you could do is put it up.”

 

“At least my hair doesn’t look like a half-built bird’s nest,” he said, nodding a chin towards the guy's twisted hair.

 

His fingers went up to his head in surprise, feeling at the gnarls and knots in his hair. He looked away, his expression turning sour.

 

“Well, _Keith_ ,“ the guy said, tone surly. “Can you direct me and my bad hair to the highway again? I’ve been driving around these roads for the last ten minutes.”

 

Keith pointed down the road.

 

“Go straight. Pass caution light. Country store. Turn left. Turn right.”

 

“You would make a great GPS. Like a drill sergeant,” the guy rolled his eyes, pushing his shades up his nose.

 

“Learn to drive without one then,” Keith retorted gruffly, putting his earbuds back in. “Maybe next time you won’t have to pullover and ask for directions again.”

 

He pouted (which was weird for a grown man to do in Keith’s opinion) and cranked up the stereo as he sped off.

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks later Keith was out on the perimeter fence, removing tangled and broken barbed wire from the post. Last night a bunch of dumbass drunk kids snuck onto the property and spooked the cattle. One of them almost got trampled to death though Allura looked close to throttling the three of them herself. Never before had Keith ever thought anyone could be so terrifying in a lacy nightgown.

 

A few sections of the perimeter had been destroyed and tore up the legs and stomachs of some of the cattle. Some of the poor beasts got tangled while others just ran right through them and splintered the posts. Regardless it meant a lot of work for both Keith and Shiro.

 

“These posts were pretty old anyway,” Shiro said, inspecting one of the destroyed wood posts. “Maybe we ask if Allura if she needs them replaced. Might as well.”

 

“Wouldn’t be an issue if stupid kids didn’t try to kill themselves like a bunch of dumbshits,” Keith muttered, picking up the cheap replacement posts. The sun was brutal sweat rolling down the side of his face. His black hair felt like a sauna on the back of his neck but he refused to put it up. It made him think of convertible guy and he would stubbornly throw the hair tie back in the drawer.

 

“Well good incentive to fix the fence at least,” Shiro shrugged, scratching at the scar along his nose. Sweat beaded on the tip and he wiped at it with his towel. Shiro was always one to find that silver lining in things. Positive yet practical like an ex-military man should be.

 

The two worked together, digging out the old posts and driving the new wood into the dirt. It was simple yet hard work and Keith found he could tune out everything as he did this sort of labor. They chatted back and forth, talking about Coran and his new dish last night (it was awful) and about the Holt’s invite to dinner. Shiro seemed excited but Keith dreaded the idea of small talk and awkward conversations around the dinner table with. The only person over there he really got along with so far was Pidge and occasionally Hunk.

 

“It wouldn’t kill you to socialize a bit,” Shiro said, testing the pole. “The Holt’s are really great. Matt and his sister are whip smart. I heard Pidge is trying to restore an old motorcycle.”

 

Keith’s eyes lit up at that and Shiro smiled. He got him there. Shiro knew him too well. He was a brother and his family to him all the ways his real family never was or could be.

 

They were on the last one when Keith went to get the coiled wire in the back of the ATV and swore.

 

“Shit. I left the hammer in the workshop,” he said, scowling. “And the staples.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro said, patting his shoulder. “Finish the last post. I’ll go get them and some more water for us.”

 

As Shiro drove off on the ATV, Keith hammered the last round posts into the soil. The ground in these parts was full of clay and it made the process a real chore. He took a breather when he spotted a cloud of dust coming down the road. A car.

 

Annoyingly enough, his first thought was of convertible and aviator guy.

 

It wasn’t as if he thought of him all that often. But when he saw a car heading this way he half expected to see that sporty blue car crunching its way over the dirt road. He huffed, wiping the back of a gloved hand over his forehead. The guy had probably learned his directions by now or got himself a damn map, and Keith wouldn’t be seeing him again.

 

He was about to finish forcing the support down the rest of the way, long handled mallet in hand, when he heard the motor of that car coming and froze. It couldn’t be. This person couldn’t be that directionally challenged.

 

Sure enough, chugging down the road was the blue shiny car, top down and motor purring like a kitten. Convertible guy was looking back and forth, searching both sides of the one-way road for something. Keith tensed when those shades fell on him.

 

By the time the car was rolling by Keith he was pointedly not looking at him. He hit the gas a little harder and turned the stereo up (Shakira this time Keith noted). He had a defiant frown on his face and didn’t say as Keith watched him continue down the road before going over the hill.

 

Keith couldn’t help it. A short chuckle escaped him at the ridiculousness of the scenario. He shook his head and resumed hammering the post.

 

After about five minutes, Keith was certain that this was a joke. It had to be. Pidge or someone set this up. Because there was convertible guy coming down the road _again._ Much slower this time.

 

By the time the car was in range again Keith’s cheeks hurt from the wide cock grin that split his face. He leaned against the new post, arms crossed.

 

Convertible guy looked notably _less_ defiant, hands gripping the steering wheel, shoulders hunched, music turned down and a scowl on his face. He kept glancing at Keith, his teeth nibbling his lower lip. He wasn’t sure what there was to lose and was honestly surprised when he kept going.

 

Ten minutes later he was starting to wonder where Shiro was. Eleven minutes later Keith was close losing his shit hand covering his mouth and shoulders shaking in restraint as the blue convertible came to a stop in front of him. The man’s shades are off and his shoulders are slumped as he sighs.

 

“I’m lost.”

 

Keith can’t hold it and he is roaring with laughter because what the fuck? This guy can’t be serious.

 

“Shut up!” The man yells, leaning over the driver door. His caramel skin was flushed and his brows furrowed together as he ranted. “All these roads look the same! It’s nothing but fields and cows and none of these roads have signs and I keep thinking I’ve missed the left turn and I keep ending up here and no one else is around, maps is shit and I’m shit at directions and just-agh!“

 

His head slumped into his hands as he ended his rant with a groan. He looked absolutely defeated. It was pretty entertaining to watch.

 

Keith wiped at the tears in the corner of his eyes, a few snickers sneaking out as he walked over to the car.

 

“Got a sheet of paper and a pen?” He said, leaning against the edge of the windshield.

 

The man peaked at Keith from behind his fingers, eyeing him dubiously.

 

“If your direction is that bad and you apparently didn’t have the sense to print out a map I might as well write it down for you.”

 

He blinked at him and it occurred to Keith that he had the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. Least I can do for making me laugh harder than I have in a long time.”

 

“Well, I’m the funniest guy I know,” the guy laughed sheepishly, eyes glancing down at his console. “I don’t think I’ve got any paper on me. I do have a pen though.”

 

“That’s fine,” he said, pulling a glove off and taking the offered pen. The guy gave a strangled squeak when Keith grabbed his wrist and tugged his arm towards him.

 

“Oh my god. I’ve seen so many horror movies that go just like this but I never thought-“

 

“Chill out,” Keith interrupted, clicking the pen. “I’m not going to kill you or whatever you’re imagining. I’m writing the directions on your arm.”

 

“Oh. Well, you could warn a guy before you manhandle his arm! How do I know you’re not some psycho farmer that lures in people with your biceps?!”

 

Keith wasn’t sure he heard that right. “What?”

 

“Nothing, nothing!”

 

Keith shrugged and began writing the directions on Lance’s forearm, being gentle as he dragged the nib across smooth caramel skin. Up close he could smell hair product and something else he couldn’t place. It smelled a little like pine trees and he couldn’t help but lean a little closer. It was amazing to have something other than the odor of hay, cattle, and dust in his nose.

 

“My name is Lance by the way,” he said softly. Keith looked up, his voice a lot closer than expected. He was watching him pen the directions on his skin. Keith suddenly felt a little self-conscious and put a little more effort into the loop of the _“g”_.  “Figured you should know my name since we’ve skipped from strangers to basically holding hands.”

 

His tone was light and teasing but Keith became very aware that one hand still lightly circled Lance’s thin wrist as he wrote. The pen slipped and the stroke on _“t”_ for _“right”_ skidded, marking a long black line down to his wrist.

 

Keith hurriedly dropped the pen in Lance’s lap and took a few steps back and mumbling an apology.

 

“Th-there are your directions,” he stuttered, covering it with a cough. “A little more detailed this time.”

 

“Awesome,” Lance said, flashing Keith a wide grin. “Thanks a bunch. You’ve got pretty good handwriting.”

 

“Uh, thanks.”

 

There was an awkward moment of nothing but the engine idling between them. Lance looked like he was searching for something more to say but just smiled again and drove off. His car was just a blue spot on the road by the time the ATV rumbled up with Shiro.

 

“Hey, I got the hammer and staples,” he said, offering Keith a water. “Sorry I took so long. Coran made us some sandwiches so I figure we could eat and then knock out the barbed wire.”

 

“Sounds good,” Keith said, looking away from the road. If the thought that he might see Lance on his way back crossed his mind… well, it was quickly drowned out by the hard labor.


	2. Chapter 2

“Pass the Tapatío, please.”

 

“Allura!” Coran scolded. “You can’t put hot sauce on Grandad’s recipe!”

 

“Coran, your grandad boiled everything,” Allura said flatly, brushing a curl of dark hair out her face. “I could lick the bark on a peach tree and that would have more flavor than these potatoes.”

 

“Sorry, Coran,” Shiro said apologetically, passing Allura the hot sauce. “There isn’t much taste to this one. Keith, can you pass the salt?”

 

Keith wordlessly passed the salt shaker, having already dusted his mushy potatoes with a healthy dose of sodium. Shiro was right. Without seasoning it just tasted like the dirt the potatoes came from. He was tempted to get up and snag the ketchup.

 

“Coran, please,” Allura pleaded. “I know you want to go through all of his recipe books but if you don’t go back to your usual _good_ food I’m going to steal Hunk from the Holt’s.”

 

Coran looked thoroughly crushed at that, a hand going to his chest. “Keith? Please tell these two picky eaters their taste buds are just broken!”

 

After a few beats of silence from Keith Coran slumped into his chair, dramatic as ever. Allura gently patted him on a pale arm as she ate her red spicy mush.

 

Keith shoveled a fork of salt and dirt potatoes into his mouth. Dinner time had become something of an experiment lately since Coran had unearthed his grandpa’s cook books, much to Allura’s horror. Sometimes it was edible and sometimes it was… this.

 

Thankfully, Shiro had offered to cook tomorrow and Keith was looking forward to his curry.

 

Keith had thought it was a little odd when Allura had insisted the four of them eating dinner’s together at least three times a week. Keith hadn’t done that since he was eleven.

 

 _“When I was a child we would always eat meals altogether,”_ she had said. _“My father always said that everyone on the ranch was family. So, we should eat dinner together like a family.”_

 

Keith was used to just eating alone wherever the hell he felt like it. Most of the foster homes that bounced him around as a teen didn't give two shits what or when Keith ate.

 

Shiro seemed to enjoy it though and after a month Keith found he didn’t mind it so much. He wasn’t forced to talk about his day or whatever. Though, lately, he would add in his two cents or ask Allura something.

 

“So Keith…” Allura asked, with a smile on her face that Keith feared. It usually meant bad news. “Who was the young man you were talking to today?”

 

Keith snorted his glass of water and Shiro’s head snapped up from his plate, eyes bright like a cat watching a speck of light. How did she know?

 

“Oh-ho?” Coran said, his bushy mustache twitching as he smiled. “A gentlemen caller for our young Keith?”

 

“No!” He coughed, wiping water off his chin. “It was just some guy asking for directions.”

 

“You seemed awful close… though,” Allura pressed, a sneaky innocent smile on her face. “Holding his hand…”

 

“Keith, why didn’t you tell me?” Shiro asked, looking both hurt and excited.

 

“Look, it is just some annoying city boy who keeps getting lost out here. This is like the third time he ended up on our road and I just happen to be around ok?” Keith’s face and ears felt warm as he grimaced at the wood grain in the table.

 

“Ok, ok.” Allura sighed, waving her hand as if clearing the air. “I saw you two talking and just wanted to know what was going on. He seemed pretty cute though.”

 

He was sure his face was on fire at this point.

 

Keith took it back. Dinner with everyone was awful.

  

* * *

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lance said, jabbing a slender finger at Keith before he could say anything. “And you’re wrong.”

 

Keith was finding it hard to keep his face neutral. Lance pursed his lips as his blue eyes scrutinized him closely. No, it wasn’t cute no matter what Allura said.

 

“Am I?” He asked, standing in front of the driver’s side and looking down at Lance. It had only been a week since the last time he ended up here and he was beginning to wonder how this guy even had a car if he could drive from point A to B without getting lost.

 

“Yes, you are!” Lance asserted. “And you know I’m starting to think you live on this road or something with how often I see you. Do you sleep in the weeds or something?”

 

“I work on the ranch here. And we’re installing new fences,” he said, gesturing to the thick fence post behind him. This time it was some quality wood but a pain in the ass to get into the ground. Despite the clouds blocking out the sun the humidity and work had him sweating like crazy and he had forgone his shirt a while ago, leaving a black tank top. “So yeah I’m out here a lot. What’s your excuse? Do you just like the smell of cattle in blowing through your hair?”

 

“My _abuela_ lives in the next town over asshole,” Lance replied. He reached a hand up as if to confirm that yes it was a windblown mess. Honestly, Keith didn’t think the tousled brown hair was that bad but Lance’s frown disagreed. “When I don’t have class work or other things I visit her on the weekends. Least I can do since I moved here.”

 

Keith let his face soften a bit at that and he crossed his arms. Now that he thought about it every time he saw Lance it was a Friday.

 

“So if you’re not lost then why are you here?”

 

Lance looked away from Keith, biting his bottom lip.

 

“Um well, I’m actually a little… uh…”

 

“Lost?”

 

“No! Just… turned around I think,” he sighed exasperatedly. “ _Abuela_ wanted me to pick up some vegetables from some farm that's around here. She gave me the address but these roads are a pain to navigate and I have no idea where it is. And Google is still not playing nice with me. Can you help me out? ”

 

Lance held out a piece of paper to Keith.

 

“That’s the Holt’s,” he said, recognizing the address immediately. “Their farm is next door back the way you came. You literally just passed it.”

 

“Balls,” Lance sighed, knocking his head back on the headrest. Keith couldn’t keep the grin off his face this time or suppress his chuckle.

 

“If you go further down and take the first left and then another it should bring you back around.”

 

“Yeah there isn’t a whole lot of room for turning around on these roads is there?” Lance observed looking around. The dirt road was tight, with weeds and fences on one side and a sizeable trench on the other side. Turning around was impossible.

 

“Well… thanks. Again.” Lance said giving a sheepish smile that made Keith’s ears feel warm. It was a damn good thing Shiro was working further down the ranch on the fences. “You’re my hero in a terrible mullet,” Lance laughed folding his arms over the side of his car, giving a wink.

 

Nope. Definitely not cute.

 

* * *

  

The sunlight was a hazy orb in the gray sky and it smelled like burnt grass even in the house. He usually liked the smoky scent of a roaring fire but his eyes were stinging like crazy from the smoke.

 

A brush fire had caught a few miles from the ranch and the fire department was doing their best to control the roaring flames. Allura said the wind was thankfully blowing it away from them but she told him to keep on his toes in case anything changed.

 

Shitty air quality and possible fires or not work had to be done. A bad case of tree borers, disgusting little grubs that burrowed into the trunks of the decades old trees, had gotten to a few rows of peach trees closest to the Holt’s. Thankfully, Allura had caught it early and they had managed to save the rest.

 

Unfortunately, that left Keith with a dozen or so dead trees to deal with. He grunted as he brought the axe down, wood splintering. Missed again. It looked easier when Allura did it. He aimed, swung again and the log split in half with a crack.

 

“Only 6 more trees to go,” he groaned, flexing his gloved fingers. His calloused hand was starting to cramp up from the grip of the old axe and Keith itched to go the workshop and sharpen the blade till it could cleave cleanly in half. He almost missed working on the damn fences. Shiro seemed to be making good progress on his own anyway.

 

“Hey there, cowboy!”

 

Keith jumped and the axe swung left, sending chunks of dirt and grass in the air with a thump.

 

“Shit!” He said, yanking out his earbuds and glaring at an amused Lance watching from his car on the other side of the fence.

 

“I snuck up on you this time,” Lance said smugly.

 

“You know it usually isn’t a good idea to yell at someone swinging an axe,” Keith scolded, lodging the axe head into the chopping block. Lance stared as if the action awed him.

 

“Isn’t that heavy?”

 

“Not really,” Keith shrugged, walking up to the fence. The labor and repetition was hard after a while but the axe wasn’t heavier than any of the other things he carried and lifted all day. His limbs and muscles wouldn’t be throbbing in pain form just that though that hadn’t been an issue for a while now. “Your grandma send you out for more vegetables or something?”

 

“Uh, no, actually,” Lance said, suddenly unable to meet Keith’s eyes for some reason. “My uh… usual exit is under construction.”

 

“Oh,” Keith said simply, he frowned as he studied Lance. Something seemed different. When it clicked he tried not to chuckle.

 

“Your hair looks good,” he said casually.

 

Immediately Lance perked up, eyes bright. “Yeah?” He asked, running his fingers through the short fringe on the side of his face. His hair was lying flat for once, no sign of the wind-blown messiness and looked a little shiny even. Only a little rebellious strand that had evidently dodged the brushing stuck up in the back. Keith decided not to mention the comb only partly hidden under the backpack and papers on the passenger seat. “I wish I could say the same.”

 

“You know that is starting to get really old,” Keith groaned. "What is your problem with my hair?" Lance just laughed and Keith couldn’t help but think it was a nice sound.

 

“Anyway,” he said, rubbing at an eye. “What’s the deal with all the smoke? The second I hit the highway it smelled like a barbecue at my Uncle Alonza’s.”

 

“What kind of barbecues does your uncle have?” Keith’s asked, one eyebrow quirked.

 

“The kind that ends with their lawn catching fire,” he laughed, teeth flashing. Keith couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“There is a grassfire up ahead. They’re still trying to put it out so-“ Keith paused as he it dawned on him. “Actually… I uh think your usual way out is blocked off right now.”

 

Lance’s smile fell. “Seriously?” He said, distressed. “Oh man _Abuela_ is going to kill me if I show up late… I’m supposed to drive her to the doctors today. Is there another way to the highway?”

 

“Uh…” Keith replied dumbly, wracking his brain for an alternative but coming up short. He didn’t exactly have a car himself and didn't explore the roads all that much.

 

“Are you lost?”

 

Keith almost swung on Allura in reflex as she came up behind him, quiet as a mouse, and leaned over the edge of the fence. She flashed Lance an easy smile and pushed the wide brim of her hat up higher as if to get a better look at him.

 

“Uh I uh… fire,” Lance said, awkwardly pointing down the road, probably stunned by her sudden appearance. Even if he didn’t exactly swing that way, Keith couldn’t deny that Allura was charismatic and pretty even when covered in dirt and grass. Keith scowled a bit and crossed his arms, looking away from Lance.

 

“The fire is blocking off his way to the highway,” Keith explained.

 

“Oh, well that's an easy fix,” Allura said. “If you follow-“

 

“You’re going to need to write it down for him.”

 

Keith managed to catch the look of betrayal Lance leveled him but he handed Allura a pen and what looked like a crumpled up receipt.

 

“I know every single road, backroad, and shortcut here,” she said, scribbling down the directions. “This might take you a little way out of your way but it will get you back on the interstate.”

 

“Thanks! Sorry for the trouble,” Lance said sheepishly, glancing at Keith. “I didn’t mean to distract your uh…”

 

“Oh, no trouble at all,” Allura giggled. “Keith was just getting these dead peach trees taken care of.”

 

"You've got peaches here?" Keith couldn’t help but notice the way Lance’s eyes immediately lit up at the mention of peaches. 

 

“Do you like peaches?” He asked, hating how cumbersome his words sounded. Allura kept glancing at him with that knowing smile and it made him feel stiff and unsure of himself.  

 

“I love em',” Lance grinned. “ _Abuela_ used to can fresh peaches and send them to us.”

 

Allura beamed bright and sunny. “Well, in that case, you have to come get some when they’re ready. Give it a few weeks and they’ll be nice and ripe." She clapped her hands together. "In fact, why don’t I give you the house number? We get so busy around here so if you give us a call we can let you know if they’re ready.”

 

“Really?” Lance took the directions from her, and Keith can see that she had already written the ranch's number at the bottom.

 

“Of course. We’re always happy to share them with others.”

 

“Y-yeah,” Keith added lamely. What the hell else could he say? As Lance tucked the directions carefully into his pocket and thanked Allura he smiled and waved at Keith.

 

“I guess I’ll be back then huh?” He tucked a short strand of hair behind his ear.

 

“Can’t wait,” he replied. It was supposed to sound sarcastic but...

 

Lance was barely five feet down the road when Allura immediately turned to him, eyes sparkling.

 

“I like him.”

 

“Stop,” he groaned, slumping against the fence.

 

“And you like him too. I can tell.”

 

“Please, stop.” 

 

“When he comes by for the peaches we should invite him over,” Allura said, tone not taking no for an answer, and turned on her mud caked heels to head back to the house.

 

And Keith has to admit that he might be kind of looking forward to that.

 

If Shiro found out he would not let it go. He would fuss and get all excited up about the idea of Keith having a goddamn crush on someone. And knowing Allura both he and Coran would be getting the details on Lance tonight.

 

Keith sighed as he picked up the axe again.

 

Alright, so maybe he wasn't that annoying. And maybe Keith was going to brush his hair and put it up when Lance came by next. And maybe Allura was right.

 

He was kind of cute.

 

"Fuck," he muttered, blushing hotly as he wiped the sweat from his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update! To be honest this thing writes itself and I already had this chapter written. Ooops. So next chapter will take a little longer since I haven't written it yet.
> 
> I appreciate comments! They keep me motivated to write this silly little story.


	3. Chapter 3

“Pass the pliers.”

 

“Needle nose?” Keith asked, trying to loosen a bolt on the bike frame. “Fuck,” he swore as the socket wrench slipped for the fifth time. Time had welded the damn thing to the bike.  

 

“Yes and if my dad hears you swearing like that he’ll never let you near me again,” Pidge said, shoving her oversized glasses up her nose. Oil and dirt smudged her face and strands of her brunette hair. Keith suspected he looked about the same. They had been working on this motorcycle for three hours now and they were still trying to take the dirty and corroded thing apart.

 

“You swear more than I do,” he retorted, handing her the pliers. “Hunk looked like he was going to pass out last week after you stubbed your toe on the tire iron.”

 

“It really fucking hurt ok?” She muttered, fiddling with the finer details in the body of the bike. Salvaging the engine was probably a lost cause on a 60-year-old bike but Pidge wanted to be sure before she shelled out for a new one.

 

Even with both doors wide open the Holt’s barn was hot and humid, and sweat beaded and rolled down the sides of their faces. Pidge’s lenses kept fogging up, much to her irritation.

 

When Shiro mentioned the motorcycle Pidge had gotten Keith was interested. When he saw that it was a 1948 Vincent Black Shadow he had practically drooled over the beat up old bike and begged Pidge to let him help her on it. It was a serious motorcycle that could get some real power and the second it was restored and running Keith was hopping on it and riding that thing as far and as fast he could. Pidge would probably kill him.

 

Worth it.

 

“Where did you even get this?” He asked, taking another crack at the bolt. “There are only a handful of things in one piece these days.”

 

“I have my sources,” Pidge said cryptically. “Getting parts are really going to be a pain in the ass though.” She blew a stray brown bang from her face. “Hunk said he might have an idea where to find what we need though.”

 

“Where is Hunk anyway?”

 

“The irrigation system is on the fritz so he is taking a look at it,” she said absently, groping for a screwdriver.

 

They worked in comfortable silence, something that Keith appreciated about Pidge and he suspected she did too. The quiet was only disrupted by the droning of cicadas, their tinkering and the squeaky barn door in the breeze.

 

“Hey, by the way. What is the deal with the dude in the blue convertible?”

 

“What?”  He spluttered, the bolt coming off and pinging off the ground.

 

“The guy that stopped by for onions and a few week ago.” Pidge had a shark like grin on her face. “I’ve seen him come down the road a bunch. Kind of hard to miss that car. I wondered if maybe you had a boyfriend.”

 

Keith narrowed his eyes at her over the top of the cracked leather seat. “Who told you?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, fluttering her lashes in mock innocence.

 

“It was Coran wasn’t it?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Keith groaned. If Pidge knew then that meant Hunk and Matt knew too. Great.

 

“Don’t stress about it. I mean it wasn’t any secret that you’re gay and you don’t have to worry about any judgment from us.”

 

That much was true at least. That wasn’t always the case though. Especially in this state.  

 

“It isn’t even anything," he grumbled. "He just can’t navigate for shit and I’ve always happened to be on the road.”

 

And while he has finally admitted to himself that Lance was at least cute he wasn’t about to admit it to Pidge or anyone else. He didn’t have to admit it out loud anyway. They knew. Keith just wanted to save what was left of his dignity.

 

The entire household had been impossible to deal with since last week when Allura talked to Lance. Allura had bought him some new clothes because “you need something that isn’t black or have holes in it”. Coran had been attempting to teach him how to be a gentleman and Shiro kept glancing out at the road, obviously hoping for a chance to see Lance, like a dad waiting to meet his kid's new boyfriend.

 

The last bolt came out easier, and Keith finally managed to lift a piece of the body off. Finally. Rebuilding this thing would be annoying but at least they can figure out what needed repairing and what needed replacing.

 

“I never would have pegged him as your type. He is so… chatty.” Pidge made a face. “Seriously. He wouldn’t shut up.”

 

“You get used to it,” he said, standing up and pulling the work gloves off.

 

“I don't have to get used to anything,” Pidge sniggered, patting the dirt off her knees. Keith scowled at her before checking his phone.

 

“Damn. It's late. I gotta get going.”

 

“What time is it?” Pidge asked.

 

“Almost five.”

 

“Oh. I didn’t realize it was that late. I guess you’ve already missed him.”

 

“What? Missed who?” He asked, baffled.

 

“Convertible guy. It is a Friday, right? Kinda hard to miss that blue thing roaring down the road every Friday.”

 

Keith blinked as it dawned on him. He had been so caught up in the bike he had forgotten. Lance did say he only visited his grandma on the weekends.

 

“Oh,” he said softly, a pang of disappointment in his chest. He had missed their rendezvous with out on the road. It almost felt like he had let Lance down. And it was stupid to feel that way because all the previous times had been by chance. There wasn’t even any guarantee he came by today. Still, it didn’t lighten the feeling in his chest.

 

“Sorry,” Pidge said sincerely. “But thanks for the help on the bike. I promise when its up and running I'll let you ride it. That way you don't have to steal it out of my garage.”

 

Keith smirked slightly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Sure you don’t,” Pidge replied, rolling her eyes as she closed up the barn doors.

 

* * *

  

The sun was starting to dip low by the time he walked through the kitchen door, stomping the dirt on his boots onto the rug. Something was already baking in the oven. Thankfully, it smelled promising this time around. He looked up at the sound of Shiro clearing his throat.

 

“Where have you been?” Shiro asked, face carefully neutral, as he sat the dinner table. He hadn't even changed out his work clothes, blue shirt and ratty jeans still covered in dust and sweat. The tuft of hair on his head was a mess. “It shouldn’t take that long to fix a greenhouse.” Keith felt like a kid caught by his parents for breaking curfew.

 

“Helping Pidge with the bike?” Keith replied, tone questioning whether or not he was in trouble for something. He pulled his boots off and dropped them by the door with the rest.

 

“Oh,” Shiro blinked, the stern dad look immediately dropping off his face. He scratched at the long scar across his nose. “That’s right. I forgot.”

 

“How did the work on the greenhouse go?” Allura asked, already freshened up, charcoal black hair damp and smelling flowery. Keith was bad with flowers so he couldn’t guess what it was. She handed him a glass of water. “Matt said it was in pretty bad shape after the thunderstorm when he asked for an extra hand.”

 

“Yeah, we spent most of the morning working on that.” It was actually the only reason he was at the Holt’s to begin with. “It should be fine for now but if we get another big storm like that it might be in trouble.”

 

Allura groaned. “ We better buckle down on preparing for more flooding and high winds. In the next few weeks the weather is supposed to be a mess.”

 

“No tornadoes at least,” Coran pipped up from the living room. “So, we can at least be thankful for that.”

 

“Am I in trouble for working on the bike or something?” Keith asked, hanging his hat up on the line of hooks on the wall. He didn’t think it would be a problem to stay and work on it.

 

“Of course not,” Allura chuckled, shooting Shiro a sly look.

 

“Lance drove by the road today while I was working,” Shiro said, lips trying to break into a smile.

 

“Oh.” So he did come by today.

 

“He asked where you were.”

 

There was a faint twinge in his chest again. Disappointment and guilt that he wasn’t there to talk with him. To see that ridiculous car come down the road with red dust in its wake and the stupid mirror shades on Lance’s face. It had become something of a ritual. Or at least Keith felt like it had.

 

“It’s not like I can work by the main road all the time,” Keith muttered defensively, sipping his water.

 

“I know,” Shiro sighed. “He just seemed a little upset when I told him you were busy.”

 

Keith’s grip tightened on the glass as he glared down at the cup.

 

“I’m sure Lance understands,” Allura said, gently patting Keith on the shoulder. “Besides there is always next time. I get the feeling this isn’t his last time driving by.”

 

“At least until the exit gets fixed,” Keith said, recalling Lance’s comment on that.

 

Allura’s eyebrows went up as if this was news to her. Her lips curled at the corners. “At least till then,” she repeated thoughtfully.

 

“Keith you smell awful,” Coran said over by the couch, nose wrinkling. “Like motor oil. Both you boys go and wash up. We’re having baked chicken fettuccini tonight.” A beat of silence. “And it isn’t Grandad’s recipe this time!”

 

Keith and Shiro were up the stairs in record time.

 

* * *

  

Keith really tried to ignore the anticipation that built in his chest as the days inched closer to Friday. Would Lance be coming by? What if he wasn’t visiting his grandma at all today? What if Keith had blown it last Friday and Lance wasn’t going to come by anymore? Honestly, none of that should have made him feel as anxious as it did. Lance’s visits really shouldn’t mean that much to him. At least that is what his brain was telling him. His emotions couldn’t be rationalized though.

 

Shiro and Keith were finishing up the fences, tag teaming the work to get them done before the storms started to roll in. They had stocked up on batteries, candles, and canned food in the house. Just in case. The rainy season wasn’t usually until spring but if there was one thing Keith learned living in Texas was to expect the weather to change on a dime.

 

“We’re almost out wire,” Shiro said, as he finished stringing the fence post with the barbed wire. "Again."

 

“Mm-hm.” Keith was looking down the road, unsure if that was a cloud of dust in the distance or just the distorted heat coming off the ground.

 

“I’m taking Allura on a date.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“… I’m thinking I should grow a mustache like Coran’s.”

 

“Ni- wait what?” Keith snapped back to attention.

 

Shiro laughed. “Just getting your attention. I’m getting some more wire. I think we’re just about done with these fences though.”

 

“Thank fu-“ Keith coughed at the hard look Shiro gave him. “-God. Do you want me to get the wire this time?” He glanced down the road.

 

“No, I’ve got it,” Shiro said. “Just sit tight for a sec.”

 

Keith sighed as he watched him go. Shiro was painfully transparent about the Lance thing. He had to admit he was glad for it. Especially since he actually bothered to comb and put his hair up today.

 

When he spotted the cloud of dust in distance and could feel his heart stomach swoop. He squinted, trying to get a glimpse of electric blue among the rust colored dirt.

 

“Howdy, stranger,” Keith said, barely holding back a grin, as the car rolled to a stop.

 

“Howdy? Really?” Lance smirked, lifting his shades up to his forehead. The smirk softened and he gave Keith real smile. The laughter in his blue eyes made Keith’s stomach flip. “I’ll let that slide since you’re actually here today.”

 

“Visiting your grandma again? Or did you miss me?” Keith teased, mouth turned up at the corners.

 

“Uh… Y-yeah,” Lance coughed, a dark flush going across the high cheekbones. Keith’s fingers itched to reach and rub a thumb across the ruddy soft skin. “I mean yeah visiting my _abuela_. She threw out her back last week so I’ll be heading over pretty often.” Lance smiled. “It just feels right to see you when I’m headed down this road now. Part of my routine. Not that I minded talking with Handsome McBeefy Arms.” Keith snorted. Lance looked up at Keith through fluttery lashes. “Really though, I’m glad to see you. Especially since you’ve got your hair up.”

 

If Keith’s heart got any lighter it was going to fly out of his throat like an untethered balloon. Was this guy trying to kill him?   

 

“It looks good.”

 

Fuck. Definitely trying to kill him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith and Shiro had barely managed to get through the door before the sky burst open, releasing a torrential sheet of water behind them as they stomped their off boots in the mudroom. Keith’s shaggy hair was damp and curled at the ends from the shower of rain dumped on the two as they did their last-minute storm proofing. Wind splattered bullets of water on to the kitchen windows and thunder rumbled out in the fields.

 

“Nice timing,” Pidge said, sliding her headphones off and turning to look at the two from her perch on the kitchen island. Her laptop was precariously perched on her knees.

 

“What are you doing here?” Keith asked, prying his boots off and grimacing at the squelch of his wet socks. Fucking gross.

 

“Just bringing some food by,” Hunk said, head coming up from the fridge with the hearty grin he usually sported on his round face. The Holt’s farmhand was built like a tank, with thick tanned arms and a dark intricate black Polynesian tattoo inked over his right shoulder and heart. The slim chance of Keith being intimidated by this was crushed when he first met Hunk at the Holt’s, screaming because a garden snake had gotten in his shoe. Keith had picked up the harmless green reptile and released it back in the grass and Hunk thanked him as if he had saved his life.

 

It was hard to not like him.

 

“Nothing fancy. Just chicken, rice and some dessert.” Hunk had a massive pan covered in tinfoil in his hands and Keith’s mouth was watering just from the smell coming from it.

 

“I just tagged along,” Pidge shrugged. “I was bored.”

 

Hunk gave her an accusing look as he shut the fridge. “You only tagged along because I wouldn’t let you have any of the _panikeke.”_

Pidge grumbled under her breath sourly, tugging the large headphones back over her ears.

 

“You might have to wait a bit before heading back," Shiro said, tugging his sopping socks off and rolling up the wet bottoms of his jeans. "The rain is brutal and we saw some pretty wicked lightning bolts.”

 

The storm thundered as if in agreement. Keith could feel the shudder of the floorboards under his feet. It was going to be a nasty one. Good thing they had finished the fences weeks ago.

 

“Allura scolded us for going out so close to the storm already,” Hunk said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “It got us a little on the way in.” Keith noticed that both Pidge’s and Hunk’s hair were wet and their shirts were damp around their shoulders. “So, we’re going to wait it out for a while.”

 

“It will be like a party!” Coran said, sliding into the kitchen in a pair of orange fuzzy socks (a gift from Allura that he wore proudly). “I dug our board games out of the attic! Who wants to play Pictionary?!”

 

“Me!” Allura cheered, coming around the corner, a wind up radio and several flashlights in her arms. “Oh, you guys are back! Everything tied down and locked up?”

 

“Trucks are parked in the garage, ATV is in the barn and all the buildings are locked up,” Shiro said. “Everything is in the hands of the storm now.”

 

“Wonderful! I’m sure we’ll be fine. Once you get cleaned up we can get started on the game!”

 

“I’ll pass,” Keith said.

 

“Oh, come now Keith!” Coran chided. “Pictionary is a lot of fun!”

 

“Pass,” he repeated, glancing out the window. He couldn’t even see the main road through the rain. Not that Lance would be coming by today of course. The dirt road was probably a bog by now.

 

He looked back to see Allura setting up the game of Pictionary in the living room Hunk and Pidge helping out as Coran popped a few bags of popcorn. Shiro had gone up to shower. There was a kind of… softness and comfort in the chatter and scent of salt and butter. The harsh drumming of the rain and flickers of lightning didn't mean much within the warm amber painted walls of the ranch house.

 

The only thing missing was Lance, who had become a staple of his Fridays by now.

 

Keith sighed, hating how stubbornly his thoughts fixated on Lance’s absence. Normally, chatty people grated on his nerves like a dull saw on wood. Keith had little patience. With Lance, he just wanted to watch and listen. The animated way he moved his hands. How his eyes became bright and excited as talked about the ocean and his family back home in California. It made it easy to believe Lance had something worth listening to.  

 

“Keith!” Coran called, dumping the steaming popcorn into a bowl. “Could you answer that for me?”

 

Belatedly, he realized the old cord phone on the wall was ringing. Who the hell was calling now?

 

“Hello?” He asked, a little flare of hope trying to tell him it was Lance. The last time he came by Keith told him it would only be a week until the peaches were ready. Instead, he got an unbearable amount of static and he yanked the phone from his ear, wincing at the sound. There was a steady amount of rain among the static and something else he couldn’t place. He almost hung up until he heard the familiar voice amongst the background noise.

 

“Keith?” Lance’s voice sounded so small. Immediately, Keith was on the alert, pulling the receiver close to his mouth.

 

“Lance?”

 

“Oh my god, finally.” Lance gave a thin reedy laugh. “I didn’t think my service would get through. I’ve called like three times and got nothing.”

 

“What’s going on? Where are you?”

 

Lance’s voice crackled, going in out, making for garbled drowning sounds.

 

“Lance?!”

 

The static finally went quiet long enough for Keith to hear.

 

“Ok, so basically it’s raining, I'm wet and my car is in a ditch. I could really use some help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a little longer but woo chapter 3. Thanks to those of you that are sticking around for my silly little story and the nice comments! It is something easy and fun for me to write when my brain is burned out. There are only maybe one or two chapters left. Pardon the typos as usual.
> 
>  
> 
> I love hearing thoughts and comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? Tomatoes to throw? I love comments.


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